


A Mind of Winter

by janiejanine



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 10:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12957501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janiejanine/pseuds/janiejanine
Summary: The encounter with the Nightmare unearths doubts the Inquisitor would rather leave buried.





	A Mind of Winter

“How do you do it, Dorian?”

“Do what?” Dorian replied, half his attention still on the book in his hand.

Judith gestured vaguely. “Talk. Be charming.”

She couldn’t think of a better way to put it, and that was part of the problem. Too often, words failed her.

Even if she knew exactly what she wanted to say, it would get lost somewhere between her mind and her mouth, and when she’d try to speak, nothing would come out. She’d stand frozen, scrabbling for some way to explain what had seemed so obvious a moment ago, and would end up giving offense, or looking like an idiot, or both.

Over the years, she’d learned to compensate for it. She mentally rehearsed conversations in advance, memorized speeches, anticipated contingencies. It was rather like chess, in a way; every move created possibilities, and she had counterattacks prepared for each one.

When she could, she stayed quiet. Mistakes couldn’t happen if she didn’t give them the chance.

“I  _am_  charming,” Dorian said. “How good of you to notice.”

“You remind me of my sister Eugenia. She can talk anyone into anything.” Eugenia understood people instinctively. When the Trevelyan siblings were small, she’d always known exactly what to say to get them out of trouble, a quality which had only grown more useful as she aged. “She should have been the one to mediate the mages and the templars. The war would have been over in half the time.”

Judith had spent a large portion of her life envying Eugenia that talent. Now, her lack of eloquence didn’t bother her much. It was simply a fact, and she had other qualities that more or less made up for it.

Which made the doubts that now plagued her all the more irritating.

_Everyone is lying to you._

In the days since Adamant, the Nightmare’s whispers had never been far from her mind. She’d dismissed it at the time, focused on finding their way out of the maze of the Fade, but hadn’t quite been able to look Dorian or Varric or Cassandra in the eye as their sorest spots were prodded for everyone to hear.

The four of them had a silent mutual agreement never to mention the secrets the Nightmare had divulged. Those weren’t for public consumption.

_They follow your hand, not you. They’d toss you out like yesterday’s scraps if they could._

It was nothing Dorian didn’t already know, but still she flinched away from bringing it up. That kind of vulnerability felt wrong, like giving away a piece of herself, not knowing if it would be used to help or harm.

It had, at least, been easier on her than it had on Varric.

She knew perfectly well that the Nightmare had been trying to distract her, to trap her in her own insecurity, and it would have said anything to accomplish that. But she couldn’t help thinking it might have had a point. Here in Skyhold, she felt at home for the first time in her life, with people she loved who gave every indication of loving her back. It wouldn’t hurt to be prepared, just in case it was all some kind of elaborate joke, and she was the punchline.

_Did you truly think anyone could want you? You’re broken, Inquisitor. You’re missing pieces, and you don’t even know what they are._

She snapped her book shut with more force than was strictly necessary. If she could go back and do it again, she’d punch the Nightmare in every one of its hundreds of creepy eyes.

“Why the questions?” Dorian asked.

“I can’t do that,“ she admitted. “I don’t…connect with people like that. If I could, things might be different. Easier.”

“They might be,” he agreed. At her despondent look, he added, “I don’t deny it can be fun. But if you’re looking to connect, it doesn’t necessarily help. In fact, it makes it easier to avoid connecting.”

“How so?”

“It’s simple deflection. Wither your opponent with a quip, and they’ll be so busy trying to recover, they’ll forget what they were trying to accomplish in the first place, and there you are. Upper hand, yours. Topic, successfully avoided.”

“So you’re saying we’re both hopeless?”

“Essentially, yes.”

They shared a grin, and she went back to her book with a heart that was, if not settled, at least a bit lighter.

“You didn’t deflect just now,” she said suddenly.

Dorian didn’t look up. “No, I didn’t.”

Judith hesitated. “Thank you.”

“For whatever it’s worth,” he said, “you’re connecting just fine.”

She did her best to believe him.


End file.
